


The Sunken Symphony

by Nemo_Nihilo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemo_Nihilo/pseuds/Nemo_Nihilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While still in school, Sam and Dean have to solve a case of strange deaths. Is it possible that the isolated girl in Sam’s new class is involved in it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sunken Symphony

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a native English speaker, sorry for any kind of grammar and spelling mistakes or unusual expressions.

“ … a fluid is any substance that flows or deforms under an applied shear stress. Fluids comprise a subset of the states of matter and …”  
He looked around the classroom, at all the new faces. the teacher, Mrs Wycisk, had not introduced him to the class yet. He hatched the feeling the old woman forgot him. Suddenly Mrs Wycisk raised her voice: “Instead of another class test you will give a presentation in groups about a topic you will draw from this bucket.” The class started to mumble, he layed back in his chair and watched the others. Demotivation grew inside him, he already had this topic at different schools before and group projects are always hard when you don’t know anyone.

“Silence, please. Now from groups of two or three and come to the front.”  
Theresa has watched the new boy. She is always watching the people around her very attentively. Who is he? She asked herself. His schoolbag and jacket seemed as if they already had better days.  
She patiently waited until the other students made groups to see who would be left over. She expected someone would ask the new boy, but the others were already in their usual groups and as usual she was left. Slowly she stood up, made her way through the class room to his desk. She was not happy to ask him, but it was unavoidable. She had a problem with talking to people in general, but especially with talking to strangers.  
“Uh…, good morning”, she started. He looked up, one eye brown was raised.  
“Would you like being in the position of my presentation partner?” She knew, she was not talking a ‘normal’ and casual English, but it was not her native language.  
“Yes, sure. I am Sam.”  
“Theresa.” She answered. “Shall I get a topic for us?” She did not wait for his answer, turned around and went to the front. She felt really uncomfortable talking to him.  
The cafeteria was half full as Theresa entered and went to her table. She enjoyed having the table for herself, but today she glanced at the new boy, Sam. In her head she made up their next conversation. She had to ask him about the project again, what he wanted to do for his part. She shivered, starting a conversation was always the hardest part.  
She looked at him again, tried to find out what kind of person he was. He was sitting with a boy a few years older. The older one was talking to a girl his age from another table. Sam seemed annoyed by the older one and was staring at his lunch.  
She tried to focus on the score they wanted to perform in orchestra this afternoon. The clarinet was her passion. Music is so much easier than people,she thought.  
Her head was filled with the melody they were rehearsing when lunch was over. She took her things and left. As she walked through the door, her head turned once again to the table with the new boy, but it was empty.  
I will talk to him tomorrow, she promised to herself. When the project is finished, there would not be a reason for interacting with him again. It made it easier for her.

The flat they took for the next month to live in smelled like longtime un-washed sport pants mixed with cigarettes and mold, but Sam was glad to be there, because they would stay for a few weeks.  
“Home sweet home”, Dean whispered as he entered the room and threw his back on the bed.  
“Have you found anything yet?”, Sam asked. Not only their dad worked on a case in the next village, but also Dean was asked to find out more about a series of deaths.  
“Not really, have you heard anything? I haven’t found a connection between dead Mr Batiler and Jan Bold, have you?”  
“No, not really.”  
“I am gonna talk to Mrs Bold later. You stay here, ok?”  
“Why? I want to come with you.”  
“Listen to me. We already talked about it, remember? Dad said one should always stay here, just in case.”  
“You can stay and I’ll go.”  
“No, Sammy. I don’t think she would talk with a twelve year old about her dead son. I will say I am a reporter or something, she will talk to me.” He turned the TV on, the conversation was over for him.  
As soon as Dean had left Sam was alone with his thoughts. Sometimes he was scared and worried thinking about his life and how everything could turn worse in seconds. Every case is dangerous and it would only take one mistake of his father and he would not come back. Sam did not want to think about all this, he took his jacket and left. He knew his dad was not happy about all the walks he took, but sometimes the motel rooms were way to small to stay in all day.

She was home, at the dinner table with her family. Her dad made pork and baked potatoes and her siblings were arguing about football. Her mom was still practicing a new piece on the clarinet. She had a bitter-sweet feeling in her chest. She wanted to tell them all the things that happened, but the real world seemed pretty far away. She knew they were not real. She had lost them, all of them, even the dog, Edgar. The dog was looking at her, maybe he knew.  
The room changed. She gained control over herself. This has always been the hardest part of it. Changing the actions of a her dreams was a hole new level above knowing that she was dreaming. The kitchen slowly turned into a basement, light up by some candles. She read the words on her hand again. They were for an old book her grandfather had left behind. She was worried she would forget the Latin words so she had wrote them down.  
“Ad finem ritu voveo. Spero aditus in amante. Animam et sanguinem iuro volumus esse. Aperite portas, et componit familiam! Suppliciter obsecro acquiescam. Audite sermones meos! Dimitte me!”  
A bright light appeared on the wall, she had to close her eyes. She heard her mother practicing in the kitchen again. The light was gone and left an exact copy of the kitchen door of her old home. She did not look back as she entered the room.  
“Theresa!”, her older brother noticed her first. She knew there was one last sacrifice left to stay with her family forever. It was worth it. In her head she started to think about her last victim and she began to enjoy the dinner with her family.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Two will follow soon.


End file.
